


Holding on to You

by lahdolphin



Series: A Very Potter Haikyuu!! [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Loss of Limbs, Past Relationship(s), Trauma Recovery, dark themes, lycanthropy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7885423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahdolphin/pseuds/lahdolphin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I got bitten by a werewolf,” Iwaizumi said, like it was the most obvious thing. It was somewhat hard to miss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding on to You

**Author's Note:**

> I do not tag everything in my fics. I think tagging every little thing removes a lot of the suspense and dampens the reveal of certain events. There is no character death or sexual assault but please read with caution. 
> 
> In this universe, Oikawa and Iwaizumi are from France so Oikawa should not call Iwaizumi “Iwa-chan” but let’s go with them being French-Japanese and Oikawa growing up bilingual. I had originally written “Iwa” instead of “Iwa-chan” but it just didn’t feel the same. What language are they speaking? How can everyone communicate? Magic. Just go with magic.

_Hajime has been in an accident._

Oikawa got the owl on Monday morning and even though he had practice that afternoon to prepare for the match against Bulgaria, he apparated across the continent to St. Mungo’s Hospital. He ran through the front doors towards what had to be the reception desk and slammed his hands on the counter. The young woman on the other side of the counter did not startle. Instead, she calmly lifted her eyes and looked at Oikawa over the rims of her thin wire glasses.

“Are you alright?” the woman asked. “Do you need me to call a healer?”

“Iwaizumi,” Oikawa said, his feet unsteady and eyes wide. He felt nauseous from apparating such a long distance but whatever he was going through was nothing compared to what Iwaizumi was suffering right now. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Is that your name?”

Oikawa shook his head, panting.

“Sir, you’re bleeding,” the woman said, still surprisingly calm. Oikawa figured it made sense considering this was what she did for a living, watching idiots like Oikawa bleed all over themselves in a fit of panic. “I think you splinched yourself.”

Oikawa paused for a moment and felt a sharp, throbbing pain on his upper left arm right before it turned into his shoulder. His shirt was wet and stuck to his skin, and he could feel the warm trickle of blood down his arm. The pain radiated outward in a spiral. He had most definitely splinched himself but he did not care.

He breathlessly repeated, “Iwaizumi Hajime. I—I need to see him. He’s my—my—“

Oikawa felt his legs begin to give out. He reached for the counter, holding himself up. He felt like he was hundreds of feet beneath the ocean, the pressure suffocating him, making his body collapse in on itself at every point until it ached to merely exist. 

“He’s my friend. _Please_.”

He probably sounded desperate. He _was_ desperate. How could he not be after receiving that horrible owl from Iwaizumi’s lovely, sweet mother? The parchment had been bent in several places in circular patterns, and Oikawa knew that she had been crying while she wrote about her battered, bruised, and broken son.

“Sir, before you can see your friend, we need to treat your wound.”

Oikawa shook his head again. “Iwa-chan first. I need to see him first…”

Between the pain and blood loss, Oikawa’s arms could no longer hold his weight and he crumbled to the floor.

He reluctantly agreed to be treated, only because he knew Iwaizumi would yell at him if he showed up with blood on his robes.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi still yelled at him.

After being treated, Oikawa finally went inside Iwaizumi’s room, walking past Iwaizumi’s parents, who had sunken, red eyes and were in desperate need of a good cup of tea. His parents half-hearted acknowledged Oikawa when they first saw him then their semi-vacant, resigned looks returned. Iwaizumi’s father squeezed Oikawa’s shoulder as he passed into the room Iwaizumi was in, his meaty fingers shaking.

Iwaizumi sat upright in a bed with the sheet pulled up to his waist, his five o’clock shadow dark and stubbly along his lower face. He wore a hideous hospital gown, and his body was covered in bandages at seemingly arbitrary points, though there was something very obviously missing.

Oikawa stared and tried to remember what Iwaizumi looked like sitting in a bed in the past. He remembered a cold winter night in the dorms and Iwaizumi sitting naked under the covers while Oikawa fused with a heating charm. His face was the same, though the scruff of his growing beard was thicker than Oikawa ever remembered it being, and maybe his hair was a bit shorter than before. He looked older, somehow, more filled out than he had when they were teenagers. His eyes were heavier with the weight of what he had seen, or maybe he was just tired.

Oikawa forced himself to walk across the room, suddenly thankful for the ability to do so, and sat in an uncomfortable, stained chair next to the bed.

“What did you do to yourself?” Iwaizumi’s voice sounded so different than what Oikawa remembered. It was rough and cracked, sounding like someone that had just woken up, or had been screaming their throat hoarse, or both. Iwaizumi looked angrily at the bandages on Oikawa’s arm. “If you practiced too much and hurt yourself again, I swear—“

“ _I_ hurt myself?” Oikawa asked, almost laughing because Iwaizumi was the one in the hospital bed with a dent in the sheet where there should be a leg. “Last I heard, you were in Greece on a mission getting bitten by werewolves.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Hanamaki. It just came up over coffee; you know how those things go.” Oikawa waved his hand in dismissal, not wanting to let the conversation to linger or for Iwaizumi to call him out on his lie. Oikawa looked down at the dent in the crisp white sheet then back up at Iwaizumi. “What happened?”

“I got bitten by a werewolf,” Iwaizumi said, like it was the most obvious thing. It was somewhat hard to miss.

Oikawa did laugh this time, hysterically so. He blamed his fit of laughter on the potions they gave him to manage the pain and the situation at hand.

It was the first time they had spoken since they graduated four years ago. Iwaizumi became an auror while Oikawa joined the French Quidditch team. It only took a near death experience, a life long condition, and a loss of limb to get Oikawa to see Iwaizumi again.

Iwaizumi, however, did not laugh. He did not smile. He did nothing and Oikawa felt like the biggest dick in the universe.

Iwaizumi considered the bandages on Oikawa’s arm. “You’re always getting hurt, you idiot. Is that going to affect your flying?”

“You’re worried about me?” Oikawa tried to actual natural, normal, like this was not the single most painful experience in his life. It was tied, actually, with their break up at graduation. Oikawa said, “I’m flattered that you still care so much about me, Iwa-chan.”

“Stop talking shit and answer me,” Iwaizumi cut in harshly, his hands tightly fisted in the thin white hospital sheet. He stared hard at Oikawa, his eyes unwavering, his arms shaking.

Oikawa gently grasped his shoulder and felt a slight sting of pain. “I just splinched it. They said it was impressive that I managed to apparate such a distance and not lose a—“

Oikawa could not seem to find his voice to finish the sentence.

Limb, that was the word they had used.

Oikawa looked down at Iwaizumi’s right leg. Rather, he looked at where there should be leg and there was not. There was a rise in the sheet where Iwaizumi’s right thigh was and then the sheet just dropped like the edge of a cliff.

When Oikawa looked back up, he saw Iwaizumi biting his lip so hard he nearly drew blood. He released his lip with a shaky breath. Iwaizumi was staring at Oikawa with an intensity that was almost frightening.

“I haven’t looked,” Iwaizumi said, eyes not moving from Oikawa. 

Oikawa’s eyes widened. He knew Iwaizumi was stubborn, but this just seemed ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous.

“How long have you been awake?”

“I think it happened two weeks ago. They moved me here today. I’ve been in and out. They keep feeding me these horrible potions that smell like your skin creams.”

“They keep me wrinkle free and beautiful.” Iwaizumi didn’t threaten to jinx him and that made this all hit home more than anything else. Oikawa hesitated. “Do you want me to move the sheet?”

“No,” Iwaizumi snapped, harsh, afraid. Oikawa can’t remember the last time Iwaizumi was afraid of something. Angry, Iwaizumi said, “Don’t look at me like that!”

Oikawa flinched, but his voice was at a normal volume. “Like what?”

“Like you—fuck—like you _pity_ me.”

Iwaizumi let out another string of curses, but they were not directed at Oikawa. They were towards himself.

Iwaizumi released another shuddering breath that seemed to shake his whole body.

“Fuck it,” he muttered as he tossed the sheet off his body and finally looked down at his body.

His tan face paled, draining of all color until he resembled a porcelain doll, so fragile and delicate, nothing like the boy Oikawa so fondly remembered. His eyes were wide with fear and confusion and acceptance, and he did not breathe for a long moment. The man in front of him looked ill in every possible way.

From the knee down, his right leg was just _gone_. There was a ball of bandages at the end of his thigh that were white and rounded. It was hard to tell where exactly the injury began but it was very obvious where it stopped.

Iwaizumi’s breathing suddenly returned. He tossed the sheets back over his leg, or what was left of it, but did not look away, staring at the stop in the sheets, at the drop in fabric at the end of his knee that was so unfamiliar to both of them.

“Does it hurt?” Oikawa asked softly, afraid to speak at all.

“They have me so doped up I can’t feel anything,” Iwaizumi said, voice equally soft. “Fuck. Shit. Fucking _shit_. It’s not there. It’s really not there.”

Iwaizumi’s breath came out short and shallow and he nearly tore holes in mattress with his white-knuckled fingers. There was panic in his eyes, a basic, instinctual fear that Oikawa didn’t think he would ever quite understand, nor did he want to.

Oikawa always seemed to talk more than others, but he knew when to shut up and be quiet. Now was one of those moments. The tension was thick and the air felt heavy. The quiet was deafening and Oikawa’s breath and heart seemed far too loud, like he was invading Iwaizumi’s moment.

Suddenly, Iwaizumi’s eyes closed and his head tipped back.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa said, voice tight. He did not get a response. He stood up, ready to call for a healer, when Iwaizumi reached over and grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Potions,” Iwaizumi grumbled.

There was a gentle knock at the door and seconds later, Iwaizumi’s parents stepped in, holding papers cups with tea tags hanging over the lips.

“Hajime,” his mother said, walking across the room to her son’s bedside. “Are you going back to sleep?”

“Hmm,” Iwaizumi replied, not opening his eyes.

Iwaizumi’s mother looked at Oikawa. “Some of the healing potions they’re giving him work best when he’s asleep, so they have him on a strange sleep schedule.”

“Let’s talk outside,” his father said as Iwaizumi’s deep, even breathing began to become more audible.

The three of them walked outside into a bare hallway, healers walking past, not even sparing them a glance, completely oblivious to their situation and their pain. Iwaizumi’s father shut the door softly behind them and all three of them seemed to exhale at the same time.

Oikawa pinched himself in case this was just a horrible, extended nightmare, but he did not wake up. This was real. This was happening.

Something had to be done.

They stood silent for a moment, not talking. Steam rose out of their tea and Oikawa desperately needed a cup of coffee, or maybe some liquor.

“We’re surprised you came,” his mother said. “All things considered.”

Considering Oikawa and Iwaizumi had not spoken since they broke up four years ago. Considering Oikawa was on the other side of the continent little over an hour ago. Considering the French team had a match at the end of the week and he was on the starting line up. (He probably wouldn’t be on the line up since he had messed up his arm, but that was a new development.)

“You didn’t write much in the letter,” Oikawa said. “What happened?”

“I don’t know the whole story. Don’t want to know, honestly,” Iwaizumi’s father said in a deep, rumbling voice. He was a tall, thick man like his son, with a graying black beard. “Hajime was brought in by his partner. They stayed in a hospital in Greece for a while. The French Ministry kept it quiet since he was on a job, but once the red tape was up and Hajime was stable, they transferred him here. We were finally allowed to tell others and figured you would want to know.”

“Why St. Mungo’s?” Oikawa asked. Iwaizumi was not English, and St. Leo’s in France was closer. If the French Ministry wanted to keep this as quiet as possible, a French hospital made more sense.

“They have some ‘expert’ here,” Iwaizumi’s father said. “Some muggle-born healer that can give people fake limbs.”

Oikawa looked at the door then back at his childhood friend’s parents. “I heard from a friend that he was chasing some rogue werewolf.” Oikawa swallowed hard. “Iwa-chan said he was bitten. Is he…?”

His mother sobbed and excused herself, walking down the hall. Oikawa felt what was left of his heart shatter into irreparable pieces.

“It’s manageable, they say,” his father said, looking defeated. “Potions for it are better than they used to be. He’ll need… accommodations, but it’ll be manageable. We’re thinking of having him move back in with us in the meantime.”

“No,” Oikawa said, shaking his head. “He can stay with me.”

“We appreciate it, but he’ll need someone to look after him for awhile. This muggle-born healer can give him this leg, but it takes months to get used to. He’ll have transformations. You have your team and your own life. We're his parents."

Oikawa didn’t say anything then, but he had already made up his mind. No one else was going to look after Iwaizumi, no one but him.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa wrote to his team captain and said he would be taking those vacation days that had been piling up, and rented a cheap room in an inn located along Diagon Alley. He could afford something more expensive, something more luxurious, but he planned on spending most hours of the day in the hospital so he had no need for something like that. He just needed a bed and a place to store his rapidly growing collection of books on lycanthropy. (He bought ten books after leaving the hospital the first night.)

The next day, when Iwaizumi woke up and was done with the healer and his parents had left the room, Oikawa rushed inside. Iwaizumi seemed surprised to see him.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa put a hand to his chest and pretended to be deeply offended. He was not offended, though he was wounded.

“Why I’m glad you asked! I am going to be the best nurse—“

“What the _hell_ are you still doing here?” Iwaizumi repeated, stressing his annoyance.

Oikawa nearly flinched at how angry Iwaizumi sounded. Instead he walked across the room with confidence and sat in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed. There were flowers and candy on his bedside, as well as an empty bedpan and several informational pamphlets with titles Oikawa could not read from his current position.

“I’m staying for a bit,” Oikawa said, more seriously. “Until you feel better. You didn’t think I would show up once and then not come back, did you?”

Iwaizumi frowned. The annoyance did not disappear. His entire body was tense and Oikawa could not exactly blame him for it.

“Are you worried about my team?” Oikawa asked. “You shouldn’t be. Even though I’m the star and cardinal player, I think they’ll manage without me for a week or two.”

“I have to put up with you for a week or two?”

“You should be honored to—“

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi snapped. He growled, annoyed, and rubbed at his scalp. “Fine. Whatever. Stay if you want.”

Oikawa smiled. He brought out his bag, beginning to pull out various objects and narrating as he went, “I brought you a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ —it’s the newspaper here. I know you’re not very good at English, so I’ll translate for you. Oh, are those chocolate frogs on our nightstand? Give me one. You don’t like sweet things anyways, right?”

Iwaizumi tilted his head back against his pillows and tossed an arm over his face.

 

* * *

 

The healers warned Iwaizumi’s parents and Oikawa, who insisted he was present for all medical findings and advances in Iwaizumi’s treatment, that Iwaizumi’s recovery would be a long process for everyone involved. The physical recovery would be easy, they said. They could not give Iwaizumi back his leg, but they said the injury would heal quickly. They said it was a cut and that it was clean and covered in signs of magic, like it had been done by a spell and not by a werewolf tearing at bone and flesh until it stretched and broke. The prosthetic would take time to make and more time to adjust to, but Iwaizumi was young and fit.

It was the mental trauma that would be bad. Even wizards could not erase anxiety and chemical imbalances. Memories could be erased, but some wounds were too deep, and erasure was not always the best method.

“He may get angry,” the healer warned. “He may become depressed. He may have nightmares. He may gain new fears, or phobias, perhaps to dogs. The first few transformations will be trying.”

“What can we do to help?” Oikawa asked.

“He’ll need a lot of support and he’ll need your patience. I know you think that this will be hard for you, but I can assure you that it will likely be harder on him.”

“Back to his physical treatment,” Iwaizumi’s father said.

“We’d like to keep him here for at least two months, until his second transformation is complete so he can adjust to his prosthetic and the transformation process.”

“That’s the fake leg, right?” Iwaizumi’s father asked. “The pros-feat-ic?”

“Prosthetic," the healer corrected with a short nod. “We will fit him once his wound has fully healed.”

“And after the two months?” Oikawa asked. “What kind of accommodations will he need? A place to transform? A place without stairs?”

“Let us worry about that,” Iwaizumi’s father said.

Oikawa balled his hands into fists. He was not going to let them worry about that. But he knew now was not the time for this conversation.

 

* * *

 

Every day, Oikawa showed up with the newspaper and went through it with Iwaizumi. Sometimes he brought candy, but that was only to replace the candy he stole from Iwaizumi’s bedside table. Sometimes Iwaizumi was feeling well enough to eat. Other days, he tried to eat and threw up. He threw up on Oikawa’s shoes on Wednesday afternoon, blaming the potions, and Oikawa tried not to take it personally.

By the end of the first week, Iwaizumi’s scruff had turned into a beard like his father’s and Oikawa declared, “Something has to be done about this.”

Iwaizumi’s parents stared at him, confused, while Iwaizumi himself stared blankly.

“About your stupidity?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa gasped. “How rude! I was talking about that mess on our face. While it looks quite nice on your father, it makes you look like some sort of—“

“Animal?” Iwaizumi offered coldly.

Oikawa nearly choked on his own tongue. “I was going to say barbarian.”

Iwaizumi fisted the sheets.

Iwaizumi’s mother smiled sadly. “I’ll got ask a nurse if they have a razor and a mirror. I think a good shave is exactly what you need, Hajime.”

She stood and left, and Oikawa couldn't believe that had forgotten Iwaizumi’s distaste for shaving charms. One painful knick below his ear had turned him off the charms for life.

Oikawa suddenly remembered sitting next to Iwaizumi in the hospital bay back at Beauxbatons in the afternoon sun, waiting for Iwaizumi to wake up. Iwaizumi and Oikawa had completely over reacted at the minor shaving injury and Oikawa, in an effort to help, made it worse. Iwaizumi had kicked him when he saw that Oikawa was moping and blaming himself. 

Oikawa smiled at the memory. Iwaizumi glared at him, still angry. Iwaizumi was often angry these days, more than Oikawa remembered.

“What’s wrong with you?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa continued to smile pleasantly. “I’m thinking about how much cuter you used to be.”

Iwaizumi’s father looked between the two men and stood up. “I’ll go help your mother.”

The door to the room shut. Iwaizumi reached up and touched his beard, rubbing at it and grimacing. “It’s that bad?”

“You look much better clean shaven. It’s too rough looking.”

Iwaizumi, his voice flat and eyes meeting Oikawa’s, replied, “I remember you liked it when my jaw was stubbly.”

It had been a slow, rainy spring morning during their second to last year at Beauxbatons. Iwaizumi was hidden under the sheets, his cheeks brushing roughly against Oikawa’s thighs, leaving behind red burns along his pale skin.

Oikawa’s face was currently the same color his thighs had been when Iwaizumi was finished.

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi said. He rubbed at the back of his head and looked away from Oikawa. “It’s probably awkward to bring up things like that, right?”

Iwaizumi looked at him, almost hesitant. Oikawa didn’t quite meet Iwaizumi’s eyes.

Oikawa's voice was quiet, but not embarrassed. “I did like it, but that was a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agreed, voice equally quiet, like he too was remembering a distant memory.

Oikawa watched him carefully then stood up, sat on the edge of his bed, and swung his legs around so he was crammed onto the tiny hospital bed. Iwaizumi did not move, which was rather awkward, since Oikawa was lying on his arm and struggling not to fall off the bed. The tiny hospital bed was not meant for two grown men.

Oikawa gently nudged his shoulder. “Be a gentleman and move, Iwa-chan, or I’m going to fall.”

Iwaizumi sighed and, with slight difficulty, moved over, probably so Oikawa would shut up. It seemed hard for him to move horizontally without two feet to dig into the mattress and push with, but Iwaizumi managed by lifting himself up with his arms.

“You know,” Oikawa said, getting comfortable, “you’re probably light enough to be a seeker now. You were always too heavy and slow before.”

Iwaizumi turned his head to glare at Oikawa. His breath hit Oikawa’s neck, hot and wet, and Oikawa didn’t dare turn his head to see Iwaizumi’s expression.

“I’d hex you back to France if I had my wand on me,” Iwaizumi said. Oikawa was not sure if he was serious or not. “But it broke when I—“

Iwaizumi cut off suddenly.

“During that time,” Oikawa said. He felt the pillow shift as Iwaizumi nodded, confirming what they were not saying. “How did you break it?”

It was a bad question to ask, in hindsight, but Oikawa was so used to just talking with Iwaizumi, to not worrying about what he was saying. There were times when Iwaizumi would call him stupid, or an idiot, but he never actually judged Oikawa.

Until now, Oikawa never had to worry about Iwaizumi’s emotions. Iwaizumi was so strong, unbreakably so, but now Oikawa was hyper aware of the extra space near his leg where there should be another leg pressed up against his own and he made sure to avoid the space. Maybe Oikawa was projecting his own unease onto Iwaizumi, or maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe Iwaizumi was never unbreakable in the past, either.

“Shit,” Iwaizumi cursed, looking back up at the ceiling and covering his face with his palms. He did not answer Oikawa’s question. “It still doesn’t seem real. Like I’ll just wake up and it will be there, like I haven’t memorized the lunar calendar for the next three months like some girl on her period.”

“I memorized the rest of the year,” Oikawa said.

Iwaizumi looked back at him again, shocked. “No way.”

Oikawa turned his head, needing to see Iwaizumi’s face, their noses practically touching. He smiled. “Don’t look so doubtful. I did better than you in Astronomy. The centaurs told me I was born under beautiful stars and have a natural gift.”

Iwaizumi looked doubtful. “Griffin shit.”

“It’s true! You were there.”

“I don’t remember that,” Iwaizumi said, chuckling.

Before Oikawa could respond with a brilliant comeback that would leave Iwaizumi at a loss for words, the door opened, and his parents walked back inside.

“Just like old times,” his mother said. “Only you two used to fit on a bed much easier.”

Iwaizumi burned red while Oikawa sat up, grabbing his ankles and smiling. “I’ll hold the mirror!”

Oikawa helped Iwaizumi shave by holding up the mirror, watching as Iwaizumi dragged the dangerously sharp razor blade across his jaw and chin. He did the mustache last, which made Oikawa snicker; Iwaizumi threatened to cut him if he didn’t hold the mirror still.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa passed a wand shop called Ukai’s and decided he would buy Iwaizumi’s new wand when he got out of the hospital. He stopped by the tiny store on the first floor of the hospital and chatted with the girl behind the counter as he bought the morning copy of the _Daily Prophet_ and a box of candies.

Iwaizumi’s parents vacated the room to give the two men some time alone so Oikawa promptly sat in the chair next to the bed, spreading the newspaper out on the bed and flipping straight to the Quidditch section.

Iwaizumi could not read from so far away and his English was quite awful so Oikawa read through the paper. When Oikawa reached a particular article, he skimmed over the details.

“Wait, you said Bulgaria won,” Iwaizumi said. His fingers were sticky from the candy Oikawa had brought him, something bitter the girl at the hospital shop encouraged him to buy. “Against what team?”

“Oh, no one,” Oikawa said, turning the page so Iwaizumi did not see the large, bold title _French Team Loses_. Iwaizumi was bad at English, but not _that_ bad.

Iwaizumi knew that Oikawa being at the hospital meant he was not with his team, but Oikawa did not want Iwaizumi to figure out that he was skipping important matches.

“Look at this, Iwa-chan, ‘Ten Ways to Cure Acne’! Do you still get those spots on your back? This could help.”

Iwaizumi shot him a look. “So they played no one?”

“Weird, huh?”

Iwaizumi clutched the sheets. He did that a lot, lately. Oikawa wondered if that was the only way he could vent his rage. Iwaizumi was not an angry person, but his situation was not exactly easy. 

“It was your team, wasn’t it?” Iwaizumi said, not looking at him. “You ditched your team to come here. You got hurt because you came here. I—you—“

Iwaizumi grabbed fistfuls of his hair and tugged. His legs—leg, Oikawa thought miserably, along with what was left of his right thigh—kicked in frustration like he was a child having a tantrum. He made a distressed noise that sounded pained, almost like a scream muffled behind a tightly locked jaw and teeth clamped shut like a prison.

A wave of panic surged through Oikawa, who remembered that while potions and spells were helping Iwaizumi heal quickly, he was not fully recovered.

“Iwa-chan, you’ll hurt your leg if you don’t stop.“

Iwaizumi’s head shot up and he glared at Oikawa harder than ever, like he wanted Oikawa to just disappear. He tossed his pillow at him. Oikawa hardly at time to throw his hands up in defense.

“Why are you mad at me?” Oikawa asked, standing up and backing away from the bed. He tripped over the chair and fell to the floor with a heavy, painful thump.

“Just leave!” Iwaizumi shouted, voice broken. “Didn’t I tell you that I didn’t want you around four years ago?”

Oikawa felt like he had been stabbed in the heart. It was not the words he had used back then, but it hurt like it did four years ago, when it was raining and Iwaizumi said they should go their separate ways because Oikawa was bad for him. Maybe it hurt more.

But he stood up anyways. He approached the bed, slow and careful, and watched his best friend crumbling.

“Why did you come back?” Iwaizumi asked. “Why the fuck did you think I would want you here? So you could laugh at how broken I am? So you could poke fun at me like you always used to?”

Iwaizumi grabbed his second and last pillow, tossing it at Oikawa, who let it bounce off his chest. The only thing left to throw was the vase with dying flowers, or the empty bedpan next to his bed, but he did not reach for them. Iwaizumi covered his eyes in his palms, his fingers curling against his forehead like he was trying to tear off his face. He bent his knee and curled forward.

“Why are you here?” Iwaizumi asked, his voice quiet and wet, almost like he was about to cry. “Why am I here?”

Oikawa inhaled and exhaled slowly before sitting on the edge of the bed next to Iwaizumi and wrapping his arms around him. Iwaizumi buried his face into Oikawa’s chest, his fists pounding on Oikawa’s back, but the blows were not hard. They were soft and weak, futile, more of a pretense than anything.

“Why?” Iwaizumi mumbled. His hands clutched at the fabric of Oikawa’s shirt, tugging at it. “Why did this have to happen?”

Oikawa rubbed up and down Iwaizumi’s back.

All Iwaizumi did was shake and cling to him.

 

* * *

 

They did not talk about The Incident, as Oikawa dubbed it. In the past, they never talked about things. They were teenagers that thought sweeping things under the rug and pretending they did not happen made them go away. They were adults now and should be able to talk about things. Oikawa thought that they would, if they were not preoccupied with preparing for Iwaizumi’s first transformation.

Iwaizumi pushed himself into a wheelchair, refusing to be levitated like a toy, and Oikawa saw that Iwaizumi was just as strong, if not stronger, than he had been as a beater in school. Iwaizumi lifted himself off the bed and lowered himself into the wheelchair, not losing his balance despite the startling difference in his center of gravity.

Iwaizumi looked very proud of himself. Oikawa smiled at him and Iwaizumi looked brighter than ever for a brief moment before he remembered why it was he was going on this trip out of his room.

They were shown the padded rooms downstairs. They were simple in design—there was a private changing room where people could keep their clothes and then another door to a padded room. The padding was to keep the patient safe from himself or herself.

There was a potion that allowed werewolves to retain their human mind when they transformed. It kept them sane, kept them from going after others. It made them docile, suppressing their new animal instincts, but it was better safe than sorry. The process, they were told, affected everyone differently and human awareness was not always the best of things.

“Are there any questions?” the healer asked at the end of the presentation.

There was silence until Iwaizumi, pushing and tugging at the wheels so he shifted back and forth several inches, spoke up, “Will it be cold in there?”

His mother sobbed into her hand and walked down the hall. Iwaizumi’s father put a hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed tightly.

“The rooms are heated,” the healer assured gently.

“And you said I could keep clothes in the first room,” Iwaizumi went on, surprisingly calm for someone who had a break down twenty-four hours earlier. “I won’t exactly be able to move on my own.”

The healer nodded. “Yes, we did consider that. Any clothes you are wearing will be destroyed by the transformation process. We were thinking that we lead you to the padded room, have you disrobe, and then you place your clothes in a corner so you can dress yourself in the morning. We try to give you as much modesty and respect as possible during this process.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “When do I take the potion?”

“At the sun’s highest peak.”

Iwaizumi frowned. “Uh…“

“We’ll let you know when to take it,” the healer supplied. “The time frame is forgiving, though, so if you are an hour or two late, the potion will still take effect.”

The healer looked at them, waiting to see if they had any other questions.

Oikawa took a tentative step forward and asked, “What happens in the morning?”

“He’ll be disoriented at first and then he'll come to. We will have someone waiting to take him out of the room and back upstairs. If he gains any injuries, we will heal them.”

Oikawa felt his shoulders tense. “Why would he get injuries?”

“Well, the transformation itself can cause injuries—it’s a rather violent process,” the healer said. “But sometimes people can harm themselves. It can be very hard mentally.”

Between Iwaizumi’s sharp face features and determined expression, his face was stone. It reminded Oikawa of the look Iwaizumi got before a match, before they stepped onto the Pitch and crushed their opponents. There was no sign of the broken pieces hidden beneath the surface.

Oikawa smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Iwa-chan, I’ll be there when you wake up.”

Iwaizumi did not scowl. His hard expression broke and he _smirked_. “That’s not reassuring.”

Oikawa would usually gasp, maybe fake annoyance, but he could only smile. He had to be positive, had to be strong like Iwaizumi, who had to be so very afraid beneath his mask.

 

* * *

 

With the first full moon approaching, everyone was on edge. Iwaizumi’s mother cried more, and his parents were reluctant to leave their son’s room when Oikawa arrived. Oikawa told them they could stay, or he could go (no matter how much that hurt to say), but they thought Oikawa was good for Iwaizumi. His father said Iwaizumi was always in a better mood when Oikawa left, so they tried to give the two men time alone.

The day before the first transformation, Oikawa could tell that Iwaizumi was on edge too. His eyes flicked to everything in the room that moved and he kept shifting his leg, restless. Oikawa read that a lot of werewolves acted strangely the night before the change, some zoning out, others becoming anxious.

“Are you scared?” Oikawa asked lightly. “It’s okay to be scared, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi did not insult him, did not get angry like he tended to do, just stared at the foot of the bed. “My mom cries every time she sees me. It’s like she thinks I won’t turn back.”

“You’ll turn back.” Oikawa smiled sadly. “How else are you going to call me stupid?”

“Maybe I’ll just roar at you.”

“Do wolves roar?”

“I think they howl, actually,” Iwaizumi said, finally looking at Oikawa. “I guess I'll find out tonight." 

Oikawa glanced at the bedside table where there was a clean, plain vial of blue potion.

“It’s called Wolfsbane Potion,” Iwaizumi said. “Wolfsbane is toxic to werewolves. I guess that’s irony.”

Oikawa did not know what to say. He had the morning copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , but it did not feel right to go through it, not when they were having an actual, serious conversation.

“I think I want to be alone,” Iwaizumi said.

Years ago, Oikawa would have fought him, would have stayed anyways, maybe even crawled into bed with him and kissed him, depending on what age they were. But now they were older, more mature, and their relationship was still so fragile.

Oikawa nodded and left without another word, not knowing what he would say even if he stayed.

 

* * *

 

The full moon was bright and overwhelming. Oikawa stared at it until he felt transfixed. With a horrible, sinking feeling, he realized that Iwaizumi would never again look at the full moon with his own, human eyes. It would be through the eyes of a wolf.

 

* * *

 

When Oikawa arrived the next morning and saw Iwaizumi’s parents and Iwaizumi’s healer standing outside of his room, talking quietly, Oikawa wondered what went wrong. Why weren’t they with their son?

He walked faster down the hall, exhaustion making his limbs heavy. He had not slept at all last night. He figured Iwaizumi had not either.

“What’s going on?” Oikawa asked as he approached.

“Oikawa,” the healer said. “Iwaizumi is requesting that he does not have visitors this morning.”

Oikawa shook his head, feeling like a teenager again, and said, “But I said I would be there when he woke up!”

The healer nodded slowly. “Yes, well, he is now requesting to be alone. It is perfectly understandable. He is exhausted both mentally and physically. We’re keeping an eye on him. We’ll let you know if anything happens.”

Something about the healer’s words did not reassure Oikawa like they did Iwaizumi’s parents. What were they expecting to happen? It’s not like Iwaizumi was going to transform again. Did they think he was going to run away? Iwaizumi was a bit limited when it came to that, though he was certainly stubborn enough to try.

Iwaizumi’s parents, after discussing Iwaizumi’s care for a bit longer, decided to go get coffee in the hospital cafeteria. They decided to stay around, in case their son changed their mind. Oikawa should have done the same. He should have found a place to rest, to wait, but he did not. Instead he waited for the healer to leave Iwaizumi’s room then opened the door.

Iwaizumi was sitting in his bed of pristine, scratchy, white sheets in the same ugly hospital gown as always. He didn’t turn his head to look at Oikawa, as if he didn’t realize someone was in the room. He just stared at the foot of his bed, trapped in his own thoughts. Iwaizumi’s eyes looked hollow, the bottoms lined with heavy, dark circles.

The strangest thing, Oikawa realized, was a very tiny detail, one he did not realize until he was standing right next to the bed. Iwaizumi’s fingernails were perfectly short like they had been manicured. Iwaizumi was the type to bite and rip his nails, or cut them until they were crooked and ugly, but these were far too perfect, like someone else had done them.

Then Iwaizumi’s vacant eyes turn to Oikawa and widen. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look mad, or upset. He looked numb.

“You’re not going to yell?” Oikawa asked.

Iwaizumi replied but his voice did not sound familiar at all. It was rough and scratchy, so quiet, like it had been the first day Oikawa had come to the hospital. It sounded like he had been screaming.

“Can’t,” Iwaizumi said. “Howling hurts.”

Oikawa sat in a chair next to the bed, looking again at Iwaizumi’s pristine fingers and then back at his face. He remembered their conversation from yesterday and resisted the urge to smile.

“You actually howled?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes went back to staring at the foot of his bed. “It hurts.” Oikawa swallowed, afraid to ask. He didn’t have to. Iwaizumi went on, “Transforming _hurts_. Couldn’t call it screaming. I wasn’t human when I did it.”

Oikawa was silent. When they were teenagers, Iwaizumi had broken his arm when he took a stray bludger in a match and he had not complained even once, even though both his bones had snapped clean in half.

“Werewolves don’t walk either. They crawl like animals and I couldn’t—I couldn’t move. I just sat there because of this damn leg.” Iwaizumi clutched at the round ending of his thigh where his knee was. “I looked down and I was a fucking monster. My legs—my _leg_ was—“

Iwaizumi coughed like a smoker. Oikawa reached for the pitcher of water that was on his nightstand but Iwaizumi knocked his hand away, not even looking at him.

“I was a fucking monster,” Iwaizumi repeated. “My arms were this thin, bony things covered in nasty gray skin. Werewolves aren’t as hairy as you think. They’re all bone and skin with claws and these long snouts that block part of your vision. I just wanted to get rid of it, didn’t want to see it, so I just—“

Iwaizumi dragged his blunt nails along his arms, scratching himself, and Oikawa nearly threw up as the horrible realization hit him.

“I tried to rip it off but it wouldn’t come off. It looked like _him_ and I didn't want to look at it—couldn't look at it. I needed to get it off but it wouldn’t come off—“

They had cut his nails because he had been hurting himself as a wolf and then again as a human. Did they find Iwaizumi, bloody and broken with long vertical strips along his body, maybe more at the point where his leg just stopped?

Oikawa put a hand over his mouth. The act did not make his nausea better, but it seemed fend it off for a moment.

Iwaizumi stopped moving his hands up and down his arms and dug his nails in hard, leaving behind ironic moons in his tan skin. The action pulled his skin taut along his arms as he pushed painful crevices into his body.

“Shit,” Iwaizumi cursed, curling forward until his forehead was close to being buried in the sheets between his legs. “I thought being broken was bad, but now I’m a monster too.”

“Stop!” Oikawa said, leaning forward, not quite sure why. He didn’t dare touch Iwaizumi, not now. He didn’t want to push him, to make him uncomfortable, but he needed to be close, for both their sakes. “So what if you don’t have a leg? Plenty of people don’t and they do just fine! You’re not broken.”

Iwaizumi tilted his head to glare at Oikawa. “And being a werewolf?”

“You’re not a monster,” Oikawa said, “and you’re not broken. Would you call another werewolf a monster when they were in their human form? Would you call this person, who has no control over their situation, a monster? Would you?”

Iwaizumi blinked, thinking. “No.”

“Then why would you do that to yourself?” Oikawa asked, voice broken with emotion. “A long time ago, you told me to stop being stupid and to realize that I wasn’t alone. Now it’s your turn to realize you’re not alone.”

Iwaizumi sat up but never once looked away from Oikawa. “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m not stupid too?”

Oikawa smiled through the turmoil of emotions in his heart. “But what if you are stupid?”

“You’re the stupid one.”

Iwaizumi rested back against his pillows and reached across his body with one arm, digging his nails into the flesh of his lower arm. Oikawa reached out, grabbed his wrist, and squeezed until Iwaizumi’s nails pulled away.

“Don’t,” Oikawa said quietly. “Please don’t hurt yourself.”

“Talking really does hurt,” Iwaizumi said. It didn’t acknowledge Oikawa’s remark and it was not a promise.

Oikawa put on another forced smile. “That’s okay. I’ll talk enough for the both of us.”

Tired, Iwaizumi replied, “You never shut up.”

 

* * *

 

Several days after the full moon, the healers gave Iwaizumi permission to begin moving around the hospital in his wheelchair, but he always had to be accompanied in case his arms became too tired or something happened. They thought it would help his mental state, given the recent events, and Iwaizumi did brighten up when they mentioned a sunroom.

Oikawa insisted on pushing Iwaizumi’s wheelchair and actually made it halfway down the hallway before Iwaizumi got irritated and began pushing at the wheels, breaking away from Oikawa, who had to jog down the hall to keep up.

They got turned around and asked a healer to point them back in the right direction, but eventually they found a large room filled with other patients and healers. The room had floor to ceiling windows that looked out at a well-kept garden. Even though it was a rainy, gloomy day, the light coming in from the windows was brighter than anything in Iwaizumi’s depressing room.

Iwaizumi rolled up close to the windows and Oikawa stood behind him, staring at their reflection in the window while Iwaizumi looked at the outside world. Iwaizumi had a glower to his face and the gray clouds made his reflection look like a ghost.

“I thought you would be smiling,” Oikawa said, watching Iwaizumi’s expression. “Or are you just too stricken by my reflection?”

“Shut up. I just hate being stuck here. I can’t even get a blanket by myself since I don’t have a wand and they keep my damn wheelchair on the other side of the room.”

“Well, if they kept it at your bedside, wouldn’t you just try to escape?”

Iwaizumi grinned. “Probably.”

“I think that once it’s nicer outside, we should go on a short jail break,” Oikawa said. “There’s a wand shop not far from here and a pub that has really good fish and chips.”

Iwaizumi rolled his chair back and forth. “Think we’ll get around okay with this?”

“I’ll bring my broom if that’s what it takes, and you can hold onto me like you used to.”

“I never held onto you.”

Oikawa stopped looking at Iwaizumi’s reflection and looked at the real thing, at the man in front of him that was smiling like a mad man.

“You’re serious?” Iwaizumi asked, returning his gaze. “You’ll take me to get a wand?”

“If you want to.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi replied without hesitation. 

He looked back outside at the dreary clouds and Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi like he was the missing sun.

 

* * *

 

The next sunny day, Oikawa shut the door to Iwaizumi’s room while Iwaizumi wrote a note to explain where he was just in case someone came to check on him while they were gone. They figured that it would be nearly impossible to take Iwaizumi out the front door so Oikawa was apparating them to Ukai’s.

Oikawa took a pair of clothes out of his bag and set them on Iwaizumi’s bed. Oikawa stood against the wall, waiting for Iwaizumi to get dressed. Iwaizumi demanded that he do it himself, or at least try to, and Oikawa knew better than to argue with Iwaizumi when he was in a stubborn mode.

If Iwaizumi noticed that Oikawa was watching, he did not say anything. Iwaizumi had more muscle than he did in school, which Oikawa once thought was impossible, though he had gotten a bit softer since being in the hospital. He had a few scars that Oikawa did not recognize, and the hair on his chest was a bit thicker than before, though it was not outrageous.

And, for the first time, Oikawa saw Iwaizumi’s right leg. His injury was covered by bandages at first, then the hospital gown and blankets of his bed. Now there was nothing to cover the injury. There was a round curve with a straight pink scar just above where Iwaizumi’s right knee used to be. Oikawa stared at the unfamiliar ending until Iwaizumi lifted his hips and pulled up his pants.

Iwaizumi managed to get dressed fully by himself, looking very proud indeed, and Oikawa pushed his wheelchair over. Once Iwaizumi was seated, Oikawa put a hand on his shoulder.

“Ready?” Oikawa asked.

Iwaizumi grinned up at him. “Let’s get out of here.”

There was a rush of air, a feeling of constriction, and then they were outside of the dreary hospital room and in the middle of Diagon Alley in front of the window of Ukai’s, the old wand shop. Iwaizumi’s wheelchair rolled back and forth when they landed, but the cobblestone street was surprisingly free of pesky bumps.

Iwaizumi entered the wand shop before Oikawa could point it out, the door opening for him. Oikawa quickly followed after him. Ukai’s Wand Shop was old and dusty, with more cobwebs than Oikawa would care to count. If he saw a spider, he was sure that he would scream, and then Iwaizumi would yell at him for being such a coward. There were rows and rows of tall shelves that overflowed with wand boxes.

There was an angry looking old man sitting behind the counter at the back of the shop who did not greet them. Iwaizumi rolled up and down the aisles, looking at the many boxes, most of which were out of his reach. Oikawa followed, humming a song, content to just follow Iwaizumi while he explored.

“Hey!” Iwaizumi called out eventually. “Can you show me some wands?”

The old man stood up and went straight to the aisle they were at. He made no comment of Iwaizumi’s wheelchair. He just grunted, gestured for them to follow him, and led them to a different aisle.

“Yours break or something?” the old man asked. “Unless kids are growing damn fast these days.”

“It broke.”

The old man stopped suddenly in the middle of an aisle and Iwaizumi grasped his wheels so he did not run into him. Oikawa stopped next to Iwaizumi, catching him by the shoulder to steady himself. Iwaizumi’s shoulder was solid, thick, and warm, and Oikawa was struck with an overwhelming feeling of joy.

He was so glad that Iwaizumi was alive.

“How?” the old man asked.

“Just did,” Iwaizumi replied vaguely. Oikawa heard his voice and was brought back to the situation at hand.

The old man leaned down and looked Iwaizumi in the eye. “Wands need honesty, kid. What happened?”

Iwaizumi rolled back and forth nervously, but did not break eye contact. “I’m an auror. I cast a spell to save my life and it broke.”

The old man’s eyes flicked down to Iwaizumi’s right leg. Even with pants, it was very obvious one of his legs was missing. The old man nodded, almost in understanding, and made a gruff noise in the back of his throat. Then the old man stood up straight and began pulling boxes off the shelves.

Oikawa had suspected for awhile, ever since he heard the site of the injury had been a clean cut, but he didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe that Iwaizumi had had to make that decision, had gone through something more traumatic than being bitten. 

“Iwa-chan,” he said, quiet and afraid to ask but needing to know, “did you cut off your own leg?”

Iwaizumi bit his bottom lip and nodded. He did not tilt his head to look at Oikawa. “My partner had apparated right when I was bit so I was alone and the bastard wouldn't let go. His pack was coming and if I didn’t get him off, I would have been killed. There weren't any other options."

Oikawa felt tears well in his eyes as his chest tightened painfully. The images that formed inside his mind were painful, almost unbearable, and spiraled down into a darkness he did not know he was capable of imagining. He saw a cold, windy night in a forest without leaves. Blood and screams, dirt under fingernails, howls echoing in the distance, panicked breath visible in the cool night air. The full moon was so, so bright, the last Iwaizumi would ever see with his human eyes.

Had it hurt? Had it hurt so bad he could hardly breathe? Did he only need to cast the spell once, or did he have to stand there and do it again and again? He must have apparated away after getting free, right before his wand snapped. His landing had to have been painful as he fell to the ground, suddenly unable to stand, leaving him in a growing pool of his own blood.

With a sense of dread, Oikawa acknowledged his imagination was probably nowhere close to the horror that had happened that night in Greece.

“Don’t say anything to my parents,” Iwaizumi said, face grim. “They don’t know.”

Oikawa, who felt like he was drowning, nodded solemnly.

“Wands don’t like to injure their owners,” the old man said. “Especially loyal wands. They can’t handle the trauma. Was it a phoenix feather core?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi responded, his voice distant, reasonably so.

“Figures,” the old man said. He had an armful of boxes and tossed one into Iwaizumi’s lap. “Well, let’s start trying out wands.”

The first wand produced a thick cloud of black smoke that made them all cough. The second one shocked Iwaizumi like static. The third did nothing and the fourth caused half the boxes on the shelf to come flying off, which caused the old man to grumble quite a bit.

Oikawa lost count of the numbers. The old man would often disappear around a corner then come back a moment later with five more boxes, one by one shoving them into Iwaizumi’s hands. Oikawa wondered if the old man was just guessing what would work until he handed Iwaizumi a long, perfectly straight wand in a pale blue box.

When Iwaizumi waved the wand, a warm, glowing white light came pouring out the tip and wrapped around Oikawa from his head to his toes. His hair floated up and a sense of comfort washed over him. He felt short of breath as his heart sped up, his eyes struggling to focus on Iwaizumi through the brilliant light.

Iwaizumi lowered the wand, the light disappearing, and Oikawa gasped for breath. Iwaizumi grabbed his wrist, steadying him.

“You okay?” Iwaizumi asked, his eyes filled with worry.

Oikawa inhaled and nodded. “Of course!” he said with a bright smile.

The old man put his hands on his hips. “Guess that’s the one, then.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agreed.

“Come to the counter, I’ll ring you up.”

Iwaizumi nodded. He reached down to begin turning the wheels of his chair only to realize he was still holding Oikawa’s wrist.

"I know I'm irresistible, Iwa-chan, but this is getting out of hand," Oikawa said. 

Iwaizumi gently let go of his wrist and began to push his wheelchair forward.

 

* * *

 

If anyone knew that they escaped, no one said anything, not even when Iwaizumi suddenly had a wand to summon blankets, or his wheelchair. He finally rid himself of a bedpan and began using the bathroom by himself. It was a small change, but one that made a drastic difference in his mood, as well as the mood of those around him.

Iwaizumi was often not in his room when Oikawa arrived. He was either rolling through the hospital halls, or he was in the sunroom. Oikawa often found him sitting in a patch of sun like a cat, or talking to a small child that had approached him.

Iwaizumi was the happiest he had been since entering the hospital, and it only got better when the healer came to give him his prosthetic. Apparently, he had been fitted before his first transformation. The prosthetic looked more like a machine than a leg. It was a heavy duty, black rod with a joint at the ankle and knee, and a long padded cup at the top to fit his thigh into.

Iwaizumi sat on the edge of his bed, one foot on the ground, while the healer fitted his thigh into the prosthetic.

“Now, it will take some time to learn to walk properly with this,” the healer reminded. “If you want to run—“

“I do,” Iwaizumi said, no hesitation. Oikawa smiled.

The healer smiled as well. “Yes, well, that will require another type of prosthetic. Once you’re used to this standard model, we’ll talk about an athletic model.”

The healer stood up and took a step back. Iwaizumi looked at them, silently asking, and the healer nodded.

Iwaizumi inhaled and pushed up off the bed. He obviously favored his left, intact leg, hardly putting any weight at all on the prosthetic. He kept one hand on the bed to balance himself and slowly began to shift weight to his right side until he was standing for the first time in nearly two months.

Iwaizumi’s father and mother were both crying and Oikawa could not stop smiling. Iwaizumi turned his head and smiled at his parents but he positively beamed at Oikawa.

After several moments, Iwaizumi sat back down, his right thigh trembling.

“Shit,” he cursed. “It’s hard to keep the knee from bending.”

“It will take some getting used to,” the healer said. “This is a very, very good start. Does it feel uncomfortable at all?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “Feels fine. Then again, I’m not really sure what it’s supposed to feel like.”

The healer knelt down to take the prosthetic off, but Iwaizumi reached out to stop them. Iwaizumi took his hand back but the healer had already stopped.

“Can you leave it on for a bit?” Iwaizumi asked, rubbing a hand down his right thigh to where flesh turned artificial.

The healer smiled. “Yes, of course.”

The healer left the room, saying they would be back later, leaving Iwaizumi with his parents and Oikawa, who moved to sit next to Iwaizumi. Oikawa stretched out his legs and Iwaizumi stretched out his new limb, measuring the length next to Oikawa’s. The ankle flopped down due to gravity, which caused them both to laugh.

“Is it heavy?” Oikawa asked, gently tapping the prosthetic with his foot. It did not even occur to him that Iwaizumi would not be able to feel it.

“They made it so it feels like a real leg,” Iwaizumi said. "They adjusted the weight a few times when they were fitting me."

“So it’ll feel the same when you kick me?”

Iwaizumi fell back onto the bed, legs dangling, and laughed. “Do you want me to kick you?”

Oikawa fell back next to him. Their combined weight caused a dent in the mattress that pushed them both together until they pressed together from thigh to shoulder.

“I’ve missed it,” Oikawa said. “Though I have never in my life done anything to deserve such ruthless treatment.”

Iwaizumi laughed and Oikawa turned his head to watch him. He was warm, and alive, and happy, and Oikawa knew he was not fully healed, but it was enough for now.

 

* * *

 

“We’re looking at houses,” Iwaizumi’s mother said a week before the next full moon. Iwaizumi was in physical therapy while Oikawa sat with Iwaizumi’s parents in the cafeteria drinking cheap, instant tea and semi-stale sweets.

“Oh?” Oikawa said, sounding interested.

“We’ve talked to the healer about what kind of accommodations Hajime will need when he transfers,” she went on, sounding happy as she dipped her bag of tea into a cup of hot water. “He’ll need a room to transform—it doesn’t have to be padded, but it is more comfortable—and we’re looking at something with less stairs.”

“Can you afford a new house?” Oikawa asked hesitantly, looking between them.

Iwaizumi’s father sighed. “There's not really another choice. Our house has three floors. There’s not even a bathroom on the same floor as a bedroom, and we’re not putting him on a couch.”

Iwaizumi’s mother made a small noise of agreement and sipped her tea.

“I have a place in Paris,” Oikawa said. Their eyes locked onto him. “It’s a penthouse so it’s only one floor. There’s a large fireplace hooked up to the floo network, and a muggle elevator so you can get down to the street easily. I have some extra rooms that I don’t know what to do with.”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea,” Iwaizumi’s mother said gently. “You have your team. You’ve already risked so much staying here as long as you have.”

“We lost to Brazil last week, didn’t we?” Iwaizumi’s father said.

“Well, if he’s living with me, I can floo to practice," Oikawa said. "You can visit whenever you want, of course."

“Tooru, it’s not your job to take care of him,” Iwaizumi’s mother said. “It’s our job. Besides, with what happened when you were in school, how your relationship hurt Hajime… I don’t know if it would be a good idea.”

“I’ve changed. _We’ve_ changed. He’s—I’m—“ Oikawa felt awfully pathetic. He was sure he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. He could only imagine what his face looked like to the parents of his childhood friend turned ex-lover. “I grew up with him and now I want to grow old with him.”

That came out much more forward than Oikawa had planned. It sounded like he was desperately in love. It sounded like he was asking for permission to marry their son. It sounded like so much more than Oikawa intended, but he was not eager to correct himself.

His mother was stubborn like her son and looked ready to shoot Oikawa down, but his father sighed. “Hajime is an adult. It should be his decision.”

Oikawa looked down at his drink. “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m taking your son away. It’s not my intention.”

“We know, son, we know.”

 

* * *

 

They planned to talk to Iwaizumi the next day, but something happened during the night that put their plans on hold. Iwaizumi had been doing so well, had been smiling and laughing, had been doing well in physical therapy, so none of them expected it.

Iwaizumi did not want to talk to his parents, but he was allowing Oikawa into the room. Oikawa found him curled on his side, the whites of his tired eyes bloodshot. Oikawa sat in the chair and Iwaizumi rolled over so his back was to Oikawa.

Iwaizumi was not broken, Oikawa thought, but he was not the same that he used to be.

“You’re okay,” Iwaizumi said, voice muffled by the pillow.

Oikawa frowned. “Of course I am. Are _you_ okay? Your parents are worried."

Iwaizumi did not respond for quite a while.

“They have me seeing this therapist that says I should talk about shit when it happens,” Iwaizumi said. “I know I was crap talking about feelings and things in school, which didn’t help us.”

Oikawa’s heart thudded dully in his chest. He put on a smile even though Iwaizumi was not looking at him. “Nothing we can do about it now. I hardly even think about those times.”

Iwaizumi turned again so he was facing Oikawa. He bore holes into Oikawa’s eyes. “I hate it when you lie.”

Oikawa’s smile did not falter, not even for a second. His voice felt thick; it was hard to get out and the words seemed heavy on his tongue and lips. It hurt to smile when all he wanted to do was cry.

“Do you want me to say I miss you? Because I miss you. I don’t even care about being with you, I just miss talking with you. I miss you." 

Iwaizumi pressed his face further into the pillow, but he was not hiding. He looked exhausted.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Oikawa asked, his smile finally leaving his face as concern took over.

Iwaizumi shook his head. “I have these nightmares. Most are about being attacked, about apparating away and my partner screaming. I wake up sweating and just go back to sleep. I know it’s not real. But last night I saw you being bitten and I had no way to know if it was real or not.” Iwaizumi tugged at his sheets, nearly tearing them. “I panicked. I got out of bed to go find you, but I fell because—well, the obvious.”

Oikawa leaned forward, folding his arms on the edge of the bed near Iwaizumi’s head and pillowing his head on them. He looked at Iwaizumi, who looked back, and Oikawa wondered just what Iwaizumi was thinking when he looked at Oikawa. Did he miss Oikawa like Oikawa missed him?

“I know it’s irrational,” Iwaizumi went on. “I’m not stupid. I know it’s all in my head, but that doesn’t make it easy. The full moon is making it worse. I can _feel_ it. I sound fucking crazy, don’t I?”

“You’re not crazy,” Oikawa reassured. “You were in a horrible accident. You're _healing_. These things take time, but you are getting better and we’re all here for you, no matter what happens.”

Iwaizumi looked at him with a strange expression that reminded Oikawa of when they were kids. It was the way Iwaizumi looked at him after they won a match, or after Oikawa got ice-cream on his nose and Iwaizumi was about to lean it and lick it off. It was how he looked right before he said, _I love you_. 

“When did you grow up?” Iwaizumi asked.

Oikawa smiled. “I’ve always been mature. But when the person you love calls you toxic, you do some very serious self assessment.”

Iwaizumi’s expression dropped. “Back then, I didn’t—“

“No,” Oikawa cut in. “I didn’t say it to make you feel guilty. I _was_ toxic. I couldn’t take care of myself and I relied on you too much to make sure I was okay. I would have hurt myself if you didn’t remind me to stop training, and I didn’t eat without you reminding me to. I made you worry. That’s too much for anyone. It wasn’t healthy.”

Oikawa turned his head, hiding his face in his arms. He spoke, wondering if his voice was loud enough and clear enough for Iwaizumi to hear him.

“I felt so bad when I realized how much our relationship was hurting you, how much I made you worry. I was so in love with you and I couldn’t even see it.”

Iwaizumi reached out and put a hand on the top of his head. Oikawa did not lift his head, did not want to move, because if he moved Iwaizumi might move his hand.

“I didn’t talk about it,” Iwaizumi said. “We’re both at fault. Besides, we were kids.”

Oikawa didn’t know how long they sat there, with Iwaizumi’s hand resting gently on the top of Oikawa’s head, his fingers gently sliding through Oikawa’s hair.

Then, suddenly, Iwaizumi’s hand moved away. Oikawa looked up. “Iwa-chan?”

“I’m tired,” Iwaizumi said, very obviously struggling to keep his eyes open. Had he been watching Oikawa that entire time? “Come back with my parents in two hours. We need to talk.”

“About?” Oikawa asked, confused.

“About where I’m living.”

Oikawa swallowed thickly. “You can—“ 

He didn't even get the question out before Iwaizumi cut in and said, “I will. I’ll live with you.” Oikawa smiled, overjoyed and overwhelmed. Iwaizumi went on, “But my parents will basically be living with us too, you know.”

Oikawa smiled. “I’ll make sure the guest bedroom is set up.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and seemed to fall asleep instantly.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa was sitting on Iwaizumi’s empty hospital bed the day after the full moon anxiously tapping his foot against the floor. The flowers had been taken out of the vase and the room seemed more dreadful than ever. He held Iwaizumi’s wand, turning it over in his hand. Iwaizumi said he wanted to make sure it was in a safe place and had given it to Oikawa the previous day. 

When the door opened, Oikawa jumped. Iwaizumi, who was dressed in regular clothes and was in his wheelchair, had pushed the door open. He looked dreadfully tired, with nasty dark moons under his eyes and disheveled clothes that had been put on in a hurry. Iwaizumi grabbed onto the doorframe and, to Oikawa’s surprise, stood up.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Iwaizumi said. His voice was not as scratchy and rough as it had been after the first transformation, though it was not quite normal either. 

Oikawa jumped to his feet and hurried over. “Do I get to carry you through the threshold?”

Iwaizumi gently punched him then grabbed onto his arm so they could apparate. Oikawa tucked Iwaizumi’s wand into his back pocket and patted it twice. Iwaizumi glowered at him.

“Not now. I am seriously too tired to put up with your shit.”

Oikawa glanced at the wheelchair. “Don’t you need that?”

“Yeah, but that one belongs to the hospital. My parents are coming later with some of my stuff.”

Iwaizumi began to shift weight off his prosthetic to his left leg; he could still only stand for a few moments at a time, and walking was a difficult task, though he could now manage a few hesitant steps if he had something to hold on to. 

“Ready?” Oikawa asked, putting an arm around Iwaizumi to help steady him as he stood.

Iwaizumi grinned. “Ready.”

They disappeared with a crack.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading—hope you liked it! I've never written a fic quite like this so if you enjoyed it (or even if you didn't) I would appreciate any feedback you'd be willing to give :)
> 
> When I was writing this fic, I called it “Werewolf in London” after the song, but I decided to change the title because the song is a bit too light hearted for a fic of this nature. So I changed it to “Holding on to You” which is also named after a song but the song fits the themes of the fic a bit more. I would love to write a fic when they're younger and I may write a sequel/follow-up called "Werewolf in Paris" where they're a bit older but I haven't decided yet. I'm pretty exhausted after writing this fic tbh and I have more fics for this AU that need to be finished.
> 
> Also shout out to my friend amane-yasuchika who looked over this fic even though she's not in the HQ!! fandom. You're the real MVP.


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